Issue Six


Dr Eckleburg’s Myopia

When I was growing up in Chicago, my mother kept a large print on the kitchen wall, showing a New Yorker’s View of the World from 9th Avenue, a map with skyscrapers and a large Hudson River in the … Read article


Seeing the love of your life for the first time since she left you is one thing. Seeing her perform naked at a live art event, defecating into a condom and then masturbating with it is another thing, … Read article

In the Audience

In Daumier’s Le Mélodrame, a heaving crowd watches the climax of the play. On stage, a woman swoons. The love triangle is resolved, a man lies dead. Meanwhile, outside, Hausmann’s plan is taking … Read article

Table for one

In a tiny Tuscan hilltop town not far from Chiusi, there is a modest trattoria which I will call Lilla, perching on the downslope of one of the steep streets that draw the eye towards Siena. Some year… Read article

De Kooning, a Retrospective

seated man, clown, a stitch in your neck / saves time / teeth platter, palette seat, italics / creamy breast / light-hearted evil eye— / ‘a major at forty’ / ART BEGINS AT FORTY. / Only ego to t… Read article

On Lodging

Lodger. It sounds a sad thing. Still, whenever talk turns to houses and someone asks if I own, it seems best to own up. I am a lodger. Not a tenant or lease-holder or anything else, but a lodger, rent… Read article

Looking After #numbertwo

Nothing happens unless first a dream. (Carl Sandburg) In the bar of a Holiday Inn in Ipswich I find myself in conversation with the writer of a popular television drama, when the subject of Twitter c… Read article

To My Unborn Child

I went to a party once – a long time ago, once upon a time – and it was fine, but fairly boring. (Parties had started to get more boring at around that time). There were lots of my friends there… Read article


I was drinking gin / at an airport bar in California, I think, / awaiting a flight / to Denver. / They were showing the golf / at St. Andrew’s. / It was / evening in Fife, / and the sun was lobbing … Read article


The music of tango is the hoarse curse of the woman to her lover. It’s the insolent hand that creeps to the cusp of a man’s hipbone, retreats, silent and knowing. Tango is the woman's dance. Even … Read article